The Letters
by Bloody Phantom
Summary: Life at the Dursley's was hard for Harry. The chores, the belittling, and the lack of food and comfort made it almost unbearable for him. The only thing that kept him going were the letters that would magically appear in his cupboard every evening from a man named Moony.
1. Part 1: The Letters

**The Letters**

**Summary**:

**Life at the Dursley's was hard for Harry Potter. The chores, the beatings, the belittling, and the lack of food and comfort made it unbearable for him. The only thing that kept him going was the letters that would magically appear in his cupboard every evening.**

**NOTE: Since I seemed to be unable to focus on the two Harry Potter stories I'm determined to finish, I decided to write this short story for you guys to read while I tried to find my muse for DF and HPL. Hope you guys will enjoy this little sweet story!**

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><p>Six-year-old Harry Potter pushed back the tears from his eyes quickly before his uncle saw them. Tears are weakness. Tears are for whims. Tears are pathetic. Tears would not save him. Tears would only mean more pain.<p>

"YOU, BOY, ARE BANNED FROM THE REST OF THE HOUSE UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE!" Uncle Vernon yanked the black-haired boy up roughly by his arms and shoved him out of the kitchen, into the hallway. Harry can hear Dudley laughing at his misfortune. "YOU SHOULD LEARN TO RESPECT YOUR ELDERS! BURNING OUR FOOD AND MAKING A MESS AREN'T WAYS OF SHOWING RESPECT, YOU PATHETIC FREAK!" He yelled giving Harry harsh shake.

Harry stumbled along, his hand burning in pain from where he caught the hot pan of spaghetti noodles as it fell to the ground. He said nothing about how it was Dudley who had pushed him into the stove, which would not help matters at all. He can only watch as Uncle Vernon opened his cupboard and threw him in. Harry hit the opposite wall quite hard, but he bit back a sound. He didn't turn and watch as his uncle slammed the door shut and turn the lock. Only then would Harry let the silent tears fall down his cheek.

After a few minutes to collect himself, Harry turned on the light. The light bulb cast a very dim light around his cupboard. He sighed, knowing the light bulb was about to die, which meant finding an old bulb in the attic. Harry looked around his small space. Soon he would be too big for the cupboard. What would his aunt and uncle do with him then?

Then he saw it, his saving grace from heaven. He smiled and eagerly reached for the rectangular white letter that sat on top of his pillow, his name and the date written on top. He took it in his hands, delicately. Without hesitating, Harry opened the letter very carefully. He did not want to damage the letter or the envelope. Once the flap was opened, he carefully took out the odd, thin paper-like sheet. He opened it and read:

_Dear Cub,_

_I don't know about you, young one, but my day hasn't been very interesting…well, it might amuse you. I got fired from yet another job. I am not all that surprise, as you should know by now, that happens quite often. However, I did not get fired for my illness this time. I really did not like my boss. He was making unfair advances towards a young female co-worker of mine (do not be alarm if you don't understand what I mean...someday you, unfortunately, will). I couldn't handle watching it happen. So, I stood up for her and…well, I got fired. Don't worry about my co-worker. She quit when our boss fired me. Just to let you know, I did not walk away defeated this time. I may have left a surprise for him in his office. You think he'll like the color hot pink and bright yellow? It certainly should brighten his day, don't you think? His office really needed the color change._

Harry giggled quietly in his hands. He knew enough about the boss, to know that he would not like the color hot pink and bright yellow. Harry didn't even question how he changed the color of his boss's office. He continued to read.

_With my day now open to whatever I wanted to do, I read…a lot. I was so use to working at this time of day that I did not know what to do with myself. I am usually quick to adapt, but I really liked my job at the library. So, my day wasn't interesting at all…fine! Something else did happen that you might find…interesting? amusing?...my former co-worker did stop by my house (still wondering how she knew where I lived) to thank me for standing up for her against our boss. I believe she asked me out for dinner…not as a date, mind you, but as a thank you dinner. I told her I'll let her know. You think I should, cub? As soon as she finds out about my illness…well, let's just say, walking away in the opposite direction would be the most polite response. And she is quite young. Barely into her twenties. Guess that isn't too young. I'm still in my twenties myself. However, I feel much, much older. _

_I'll let you know what I decide tomorrow. You hang in there, cub. Just keep in mind that in five years something wondrous will happen to you and a whole new world of possibilities will open up. Maybe we might even meet then. I hope so. I really do. I know you might get tired of hearing…well, reading this, but I am sorry. I really am. Sorry that I can't be there for you. Sorry that I can't take care of you. Sorry for being unable to watch you grow into the boy are you today. Just know, Harry, my cub, that I love you very much and I miss you so much. You are my world. You are the only reason I keep pushing on day after day…just knowing someday I will see you again. Someday I will be able to hug you and tell you face-to-face how much I love you. Without you, I would be completely alone in the world. I don't think I would be able to get by without you. Writing to you is my first and real comfort I get day after day._

_Love you forever,_

_Moony_

Harry hugged the letter to chest after reading it for the second time. He didn't know who Moony was or how his letters ended up on his pillow every evening, but he was glad. He loved reading Moony's letters. He didn't know much about who Moony was and he rarely, if ever, used names in his letters. Names of people and places are usually excluded from the letter, but Harry didn't mind.

The first time he got a letter from this mysterious Moony, was a year ago. Thinking of the first letter had Harry digging out the old tin box he kept all the letters in. He hid the box in the wall in the back of the cupboard. It was a loose piece of wood Harry discovered years ago. He hid his most precious things. Stuff he did not want the Dursley's to find…ever. Once the tin box was in his hand, Harry opened it and placed the latest letter on top before digging out the very first letter from the bottom. He opened it and read.

_Dear Harry, my Cub,_

_You do not know me, Harry, and I am sorry for that. You should have grown up knowing who I was. I knew your parents. We were very close friends, your parents and I. I was going to write years ago, but I had decided to write when I figured you learned to read. The letters that I am going to send to you, daily most likely, are private letters for only you and me. If AD knew I was writing to you…well, truthfully, I don't know what he would do, but he wanted you to live peacefully at your aunts. I was not supposed to see you…which is why I am writing instead. Just bending the rules a tad bit…your father's influence on me throughout the years. He was a bit of a troublemaker in his childhood...and made me into a bit of a troublemaker as well. _

_I apologize, cub, for not introducing myself (getting a little carried away I guess). You may call me Moony (an infamous nickname your father and our friends called me). I hope you don't mind me writing to you. There is no way to send a reply. So, I'm sorry if you don't want me to write. But I need some form of connection to you, Harry. I miss you so much. You were such a young infant the last I saw you, pulling your father's glasses off his face and pulling his hair. He had some wild, messy, unmanageable black hair. You loved pulling it even after you got your hand stuck in it once…or twice. Your parents loved you very much. I hope you would never think otherwise. They did what they had to do for you. _

_You use to fall asleep to the sound of your mother's lullabies, laugh hard when your father slipped on one of your toys, and cry when your parents put you to bed. You hated being put to bed, I remember that clearly. You never wanted to be alone and going to bed meant leaving you in a crib by yourself. One time I had to physically pull your parents out of your nursery so you can cry yourself to sleep. They did not like having you cry. That was before your mother started singing to you. She would sing you to sleep in the rocking chair in your nursery. Once you were asleep, she would gently lay you in your crib and quietly walk out of your room. You were a very light sleeper, however, and an hour or two later you would wake up crying. Your father would then go into your nursery, but he was never as successful at putting you to bed as your mother. He loved you so much that he didn't want to part with you, not even for sleep. If it wasn't for your mother you and your father would not be getting as much sleep as you two should. I'm chuckling just remembering your mother complaining about walking into your nursery, only to find the lights on, you giggling (wide awake, mind you) on the floor, with your father entertaining you with your stuff animals at two o'clock in the morning. _

_I'm sorry, cub, for getting lost on memory line. However, something tells me you don't mind being told about your parents and as I continue to write, more about your parents will be told to you. I will not deprive you of knowing your parents, even if it is through my memories alone. They would want you to know who they were and I know your aunt would not be able to tell you everything. Your mother and your aunt didn't speak often, if ever. So, she would not be able to tell you that your mother use to sing "Love Me Tender" by Elvis Presley to you or how your father use to dance with you in his arms around the living room as your mother cooked dinner in the kitchen, singing "Jailhouse Rock" once again by Elvis Presley. I doubt your aunt even knew your mother's favorite singer was Elvis Presley. _

_I love you, my cub, and I'm sorry I am unable to take you in and raise you. I have an illness, you see, that prevents to me to take care of a child, no matter how much I want to. The law would not allow me too. But know that if I could, I would have. I love you and I miss you, Harry. I'll write to you tomorrow._

_Moony_

_P.S. Your parents not only loved you but they loved each other. One night, two of my friends and I walked in on your parents in dancing in the living room after putting you to bed. Your father had memorized an Elvis Presley song (knowing he was your mother's favorite singer) and was singing it to her as they slowed danced in the living room. Hearing your father singing "I Want You, I Need You, I Love You" was…enlightening. But it was such a private and romantic moment that we left before they noticed us (no matter how much we wanted to joke around about your father's…mushiness (as a former friend of mine would say). My former friend was not the type to be that romantic to a single woman (best if you don't ask).) Of course, that song was their wedding song, which made it all the more special for them. _

This was Harry's favorite letter from Moony. It was the proof that his uncle and aunt are liars. They had always told him that his parents didn't like him, that they left him here on purpose and they didn't want to take him to heaven with them. But Moony told him that they loved him and even gave him proof of that love by telling him little things they use to do with him. Even said, his aunt wasn't even close enough to his mother to even know her favorite singer.

Since knowing Elvis Presley was his mother's favorite, Harry would use up his recess time in the library listening to Elvis Presley songs. His favorite being "I Want You, I Need You, I Love You" since it was his parents wedding song. It helped him feel closer to them. Just listening to it made him choke up. "Love Me Tender" was a close second, knowing that was the song his mother sang for him and him alone. It made him feel like someone, someone loved. He was not a freak, a waste of space when he listened to those songs. He was a son, a beloved son of two people in love.

Sighing, Harry placed the letter back at the bottom of the pile and hid the tin box in its proper spot. He turned off the light, knowing better then to waste the little juice left in the bulb. He lied down on his cot that severed as his bed. There was nothing to do but try and get some sleep. He rubbed his burnt hand. While reading the letters he had forgotten all about the burn on his hand and now it was itchy and it hurt. But there was nothing he can do about it. With nothing else to do, Harry closed his eyes and within minutes fell asleep. His dreams consisted of a black haired man and a red haired woman dancing and there was a mysterious presence that stood behind him, a hand on his shoulders. The man behind him leaned forward and whispered, "You are loved", in his ear. Harry smiled in his sleep.


	2. Part 2: Hogwarts Letter

**Imporant AN: I know this story said it was completed, but someone asked me to write more parts to it..he/she wanted to see Harry and Remus meet..However, I have way to many stories to focus on..so, instead of a full blown story..they would come in shots...maybe three or four short parts...quick and simple..I GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO GO OFF OF THIS OR TO WRITE THEIR OWN VERSION/STORY...THEY MAY USE PARTS OF THIS...JUST TELL ME BEFORE YOU DO AND DON'T FORGET TO GIVE CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE...on that note, as everyone should know, Harry Potter is not mine..it belongs to Rowling..did not think I needed to say that..but just giving credit where credit is due..**

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><p><em>My Little Cub,<em>

_My day was just another day searching for a job. I couldn't find one. I should move again. I believe everyone in this town knows about my illness. No one would talk to me anymore. I guess it won't hurt moving back to my parent's cabin. I always did manage to be at peace there._

_By now you should have gotten your Hogwarts letter, cub! If you are thinking you are unable to go because of money, don't. You're parents had already prepaid your tuition. Everything was taken care of. All you need to do is go to Gringotts (that's the wizarding world's bank in Diagon Alley. Don't mind the goblins) to get your money out of the vault and buy your things in Diagon Alley. Someone should be with you the first time, someone with your key. _

_You are going to love Hogwarts, cub! It was the school your parents and I went to years ago. Those seven years at Hogwarts were the best years of my life. You'll meet so many children your own age and will have so many friends. Hogwarts will feel very welcoming. It may feel intimidating at first, but you'll get use to it. You will get confused your first time there. It's a huge castle and the stairs would often change on you. Watch out for the vanishing step on the third staircase. Your father stepped on that once back in first year and…well, we didn't see him for the three days. Don't worry though. Where ever he was mustn't been bad. He came back with a big grin on his face saying something about a beautiful lily…he could have been talking about your mother, now that I think about it. At the time we thought he was talking about the flower. Other than that he claimed he couldn't remember._

_I know I told you I'll meet you this year, Harry, my little cub. However, I don't believe I'll get the chance too. At least, not until Christmas._" There was an ink spot right here as if Moony sat in there in thought as the ink dripped on the paper from the pen._ "Would you want to meet at Christmas, cub? You can come for the holidays. But if you prefer to go home instead, I understand. Let me know when you get to Hogwarts. You can use one of the schools owls. An owl would be the only way for you to contact me. Unless you aunt has your fireplace temporary contacted to the floo network (a network of wizarding fireplaces that utilize Floo powder for transportation and conversation). It's not as dangerous as it sounds. I look forward to hearing from you, cub!_

_Love forever,_

_Moony_

_P.S. Your birthday is coming up shortly. I believe I have ten years of presents to make up. Sending a letter to you is a lot harder than sending a gift. However, now that you know about magic, I can send a gift by owl post. How would you like that, cub? If you wish for your relatives to remain oblivious of our contact, then midnight on July 30__th__ you best be waiting outside. Love you for always, cub._

Ten-year-old (soon to be eleven-year-old) Harry re-read the letter three times, still not understanding. Hogwarts? Letter? Was the letters he had been getting Hogwarts acceptance letter? Was that why his uncle would not let him read it? He did not want Harry to go to a prepaid private school of…wizards? Which brought forth another question; _Wizards_? As in Merlin and magic? Harry felt like he knew Moony well enough to know he would not lie to him, but magic wasn't real…was it? Uncle Vernon said it wasn't, but hadn't Harry always known his uncle lied to him all the time. However, Uncle Vernon wasn't the only one that told him magic wasn't real. His teacher's at school had as well and teachers are supposed to be smart.

Harry remembered a time when he was seven and they were told to draw the very first happy memory they remembered. Harry had drawn himself being held by a huge man on a flying motorcycle with a green light lighting the page. It wasn't exactly a happy memory, but it was his first one, or so he believed. He often dreamed of it many times. He didn't know where the green light fitted in, but he knew it was real, though he couldn't help but think it _wasn't_ a happy thing. It had happened, he just knew it did. He had gotten in trouble for drawing a dream instead of a memory. The teacher told him that flying motorcycles wasn't possible. Harry had bravely, but meekly, replied that it was with magic. His teacher told him there was no such thing as magic. He had to redo his drawing. He drew the first time he received a letter from Moony, his first happy memory.

Harry looked back at the letter, biting his lip in thought. What if magic is real? Can he really go to a school for magic people like him? How on earth does no one know about it? Would it be like Charles Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters in the X-Men? Would his Aunt and Uncle allow him to go? No, no they would not. If they would let him go, they would have had him read his letter.

Confused, but willing to learn more, Harry placed the letter in the tin can and peered out his cupboard door. Uncle Vernon was gathering the nails and hammer to put away. He had just nailed the mail slot shut. When his uncle saw him peeking out of the cupboard, he grinned. "No more letters for you, Potter." As he walked by the cupboard, he 'accidently' bumped the door shut on Harry's head.

Harry's head bounce back in pain. He forced himself to keep his mouth shut to hold back a moan of pain. He sighed and hid the tin can in its corner. "I wonder if I will be able to learn more about Hogwarts. I wonder if I can even go." Harry murmured.

He thought about the other part of the letter. Visiting and meeting Moony for Christmas. The thought of meeting Moony made him nervous. What if, after meeting him, Moony realized just how much of a freak he was? What if he didn't like him? Would he still be his little cub?

From the letters alone, Harry knew he loved Moony. Through the letters Harry knew him to be kind, funny at times, gentle, and warm. Harry imagined Moony to be a soft-spoken man, like Harry was, and he imagined him having a warm smile. Moony is patient and caring. He seems to be nice to everyone. However, Moony knew nothing about him. Moony couldn't know if he would love Harry in real life, just through his memories of an infant. What if he didn't like eleven-year-old Harry?

Harry bit his lip in thought as he glanced in the general where his tin box hid. Of course, if given the chance, Harry would meet Moony because he wanted to meet Moony and he loved Moony rather or not Moony would feel the same way about him. With that thought in mind, Harry laid down on his cot, but sleep did not come to him. All night he tossed and turned; his mind on the last letter he gotten from Moony. Questions and hope…dreams and wonderment…but, most of all, the interesting and exciting thoughts of magic being real all along, just like he knew it was. The last few thoughts that past a crossed his mind before falling to sleep was, '_Am I really getting a present? I wonder what Moony will get me? _I don't deserve a gift. Uncle Vernon would just take it away at some point anyways__. _But it would be very nice to get a birthday gift for once_.'


	3. Part 3: Replying Back

**AN: There should be maybe one or two more parts to this...The next part Christmas Break...Harry meets Remus in person for the first time...Then maybe I'll have one more part..Christmas Day...maybe..I'm not sure I'll do Christmas Day or not..I guess it'll depend on how popular this chapter is..**

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><p>Harry tapped his quill against his cheek in thought and re-read what he written so far.<p>

_Dear Moony,_

_Throughout the years the letters you sent me…_

That was all he had so far. He sighed. He didn't know how write his thanks and his deepest gratitude down for the letters he received from Moony. He didn't know how to express the comfort they gave him and the love. He didn't know how to tell Moony he would love to visit him for Christmas and actually meet him.

Looking for any inspiration he can get, Harry looked around the crowded common room. He was sitting at a two person table in the corner, away from the fireplace, since a group of sixth year Gryffindor boys were sitting on the couch with their feet on the cocktail table laughing over some magazine. The common room was mostly quiet, since it was only the first night of school and most students were tired from the train ride, the feast, and the excitement. The only people in the common room would be the sixth year students by the fireplace, two fourth year girls giggling by the window, and the Weasley Twins goofing off close to Harry.

Not getting any inspiration by looking around the room, Harry turned to his gift from Moony. The thick photo album was the only connection Harry had to his parents. It was the best gift he could ever get. Harry, of course, was not home when the owl came bearing the birthday present. Hagrid, who was sent to get Harry, had gone to his house first and noticed the owl. It was he who brought it to Harry on the island.

He picked up the album and opened it to re-read the inscription on the inside of the cover. He set the book upright on his lap, using the end of the table to support the back of the book.

_My Little Cub,_

_Happy Eleventh Birthday, Cub! This is an album of your parents and friends from their first year of Hogwarts to the day before your parents passing. I know it's not much, but I'm sure it would be something you'd appreciate. On the back of some of the photos there's a little note of what's going on in the picture. You'll be able to peal the photo of the page with ease and, to put it back, all you have to do is set it back on the page. It would stick right back on._

_I wish I can be there for your birthday this year if not any other year. Turning eleven is a big thing in the wizarding world, since that's the age children begin their magical schooling. _

_I love you, my little cub. Enjoy Hogwarts!_

_With all my love,_

_Moony_

Harry hadn't tried to take a photo off a page yet. He feared he might rip it and didn't want to risk it. But he felt comfort in knowing who his parents were and what they looked liked. It was the first time seeing their faces. Harry could stare for hours at the photo of his mother holding him and his father tickling his stomach. He memorized the way his mother's deep red hair blew in the autumn wind and the way his father's lips coiled up in a smile before laughing as he managed to doge his hand away from baby Harry's quick fingers.

Harry passed that page and went to the page with his favorite photo. There were five people squeezed onto a couch with baby Harry sitting on two laps. His parents were smiling in the middle, baby Harry sat on one of his mother's legs and one of his father's legs. Next to his father was a tall man with long black hair, almost, but not quite shoulder length. His eyes were this gray-ish color and sparkled with laughter and mischief. He had a huge grin on his face and would once and a while poke Harry's father in the ribs. His father would flitch away from him, than elbow the man back all the while laughing playfully. His very incense oozed confidence and an adolescent-like personality. He, kind of, reminded Harry of the Weasley Twins.

Next to the black haired man was a plumb and short, blond man. He twitched often and smiled uneasily at the camera. He must have had quite the itch on his left arm, because he rubbed at it constantly while nervously eyeing his friends. He must have had a very bad day the day the photo was taken. He didn't seem comfortable at all and had sweat on his forehead.

The one man that held Harry's attention the longest was smiling calmly beside his mother. His smile was warm and kind. He had light sandy brown hair. His eyes were blue with, what looked like, yellow flicks. The man looked tired and weary…no, more like sick-ish. His robes were old and the color was wearing out. He had a few light scars on his face. No matter how tired and sick he looked, he had that warm smile and that sparkle of humor in his eye. The man would reach over and tickle baby Harry's side. Baby Harry would giggle and turn is face to laugh with the man. Harry can see the man's face lighten up when baby Harry smiled toothlessly up at him. His mother would turn to him with her own smile and say something, but the photo didn't have sound. Harry didn't know what his mother said to the man, but the man would shrug his shoulders and throw a teasing smile at her before turning back to the infant. Harry can tell that man loved the child.

That was the man Harry had imagined Moony to be. It matched with what Harry knew of him; the warmth, the illness, the lack of money to buy clothes for himself. Harry knew that man must be Moony.

Suddenly, someone sat down on the chair across from him. Harry looked up and saw Ron, yawning in his fist. "Noticed you haven't gone to bed yet, mate. Why are you still awake?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I just wanted to finish this letter." He answered quietly. He was still unused to having someone his age to talk to, much less a friend. He closed the photo album and set it back on the table.

"Can't you do that tomorrow? That's what I'm doing. Who are you writing to anyways? Your aunt and uncle?" Ron asked.

"I guess I could do it tomorrow. It's just…I've wanted to do this for years." Harry answered knowing he might have confused his first friend.

Ron stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out the last sentence. He shook his head. "You're making no sense, mate. Who are you writing too?" He repeated.

"I'm writing to…Moony." Harry hesitated. He wasn't use to telling anyone about Moony. Moony had always been his secret friend and comforter. No one knew about Moony. There was never anyone to tell. He wasn't too sure about telling someone he just met hours ago.

"Moony? Who's that? Moony isn't his real name, is it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's his nickname my father use to call him. He's a friend." He said, not wanting to say anything more about it. It made him uncomfortable talking to someone he didn't really know about Moony.

Suddenly, the Weasley Twins were standing on either side of Harry. "Moony?" One of them asked. Harry couldn't tell if it was Fred or George.

"Did someone…" The other twin started to say.

"…say…"

"…Moony?" They finished together.

Confused, Harry silently nodded his head, his eyes going back and forth from one twin to the other. "Do you two know Moony?" He questioned.

The Twins ignored his question. Instead, one of them bent over and looked at the letter Harry started. He pointed to the name. "Looky here, Gred. Young Harry Potter seems to write to Moony."

The other twin, that Harry concluded to be George Weasley, glanced down at it too. "I say, Forge, young Harry Potter must be our new best friend."

"Surely, Gred."

Harry looked at Ron for any help at figuring the twins out, but Ron looked just as clueless as Harry was.

"Well, young…" Fred said, giving them a mock bow.

"…and innocent." George added, following his brother into a bow.

"…boys, we best be off. Big day tomorrow." Fred said as he started to walk backwards towards the boys dormitories.

"Full of detentions…" George smiled like detentions were not a form of discipline as he too walked backwards towards the dormitories.

"…rule breaking…"

"…not to mention running from Snape."

"Nasty piece of work he is." Fred pointed out.

"Well, night, you naive souls!" They both said, giving another bow before running up the stairs.

"I'll never get those two." Ron said before yawning. "I'm going to get back to bed. You best not stay up too late, Harry. We start classes tomorrow." He stood up. "Goodnight, mate."

"Night." Harry watched Ron go up the stairs before turning back to the letter for Moony. He picked up his quill again and began writing.

_Dear Moony,_

_Throughout the years the letters you sent me gave me both hope and comfort. Thank you for being there when I needed it the most. I love hearing about my parents. You're right. Aunt Petunia doesn't say much about either of them and Uncle Vernon knows even less then she does, of course._

_I got your birthday gift. I love it a lot! It's the best gift one can ask for. It was my first time seeing what my parents looked like. I really do love it. Though I have questions on who is who. There are many photos of people that I don't know. Maybe you can tell me who they are during Christmas break? That is if you really don't mind having me. My aunt and uncle won't mind and I would love to meet you. Truly, I would._

_You're wondering what House I got into, aren't you? Well, I got into Gryffindor. What House were you in? I heard from others that my parents were in Gryffindor too. Were you in the same House as them? Is that how you met my parents? All you ever wrote was that you met them at school. But I would like to hear how. If you don't mind that is._

_Well, you always told me everything about you day. So, I figured I'll do the same. Hagrid had picked me up…_Then Harry started to write all about his day to Hagrid taking him to the station, to meeting Ronald Weasley, and all the way to whom his dorm roommates were. At the bottom of the letter, Harry hesitated. He didn't know how to end the letter. Should he put "Love, Harry" or "Sincerely Harry" or something else? In the end, he decided the simpler form.

_Harry_

_P.S. The white owl is mine. Hagrid got her for me. Her name is Hedwig. I got her name from one of my history books. Is it true the history subject is taught by a boring ghost?_

_P.S.S. Do you happen to know the Weasley Twins? They seemed to have recognized your nickname._

Harry folded the note and put it in his pocket. He'll have to owl it to Moony tomorrow. It was much too late to take it to the owlery now and Harry didn't know where the owlery was located at. With that in mind, Harry picked up his photo album and headed off to bed.


	4. Part 4: Moony

**AU: I'm still deciding if I should have the story end here or do Christmas Day...If you think I should do Christmas Day then you better send a review..otherwise, I might not do it**

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><p>Harry glanced down at the latest letter from Moony. His palms were sweaty from his nerves. His body rocked back and forth from the movement of the train, making it hard to focus on the letter in his hand. It was a short letter, but Harry didn't mind. He was meeting him at the station anyways.<p>

_My Little Cub_

_I'm on Christmas break. My boss gave me an early one. You're not the only one that is surprise. I didn't think he would actually do it when I asked, but apparently since I've been one of his best employers so far; working hard, not ever being late for work, working overtime, and not missing any days so far (good thing my illness hit me over the weekend) really put me on my boss's good side. I'm not complaining. It gives me time to clean up my place before you come. _

_I can't wait to see you, Harry. I really can't, but I must say I'm feeling exactly what you are feeling. I'm also very nervous (just because I am an adult doesn't mean I can't get nervous). I'll be there at the station waiting for you. I was going to head off and get a tree tomorrow while I wait for your train to come in, but I decided to ask you if you would like to come with me before going. _

_Moony_

The compartment door opened, taking Harry's attention away from the letter. Hermione came back in and sat down, closing the door behind her. She had left a few minutes ago to use the restroom. With a huff, she sat down across from him. "We'll be at the station in a half an hour." She said sounding irritated.

"Okay…" Harry said, uncertainly. He eyed his friend. "What's wrong?"

Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Lavender Brown and her 'oh, Hermione, if you don't fix that hair of yours, you'll never have a boyfriend'." She used her high pitch voice, mocking Lavender's own. "That's what and it's not like I'm looking for a boyfriend at the age of twelve anyway! That's much too young!" Hermione had her birthday already, making her one of the oldest students in their first year class.

Harry held back a chuckle and turned to look out the window. He felt bad leaving Ron behind at Hogwarts, but he really, really wanted to meet Moony. He didn't know when he'll get the chance to do it again…next Christmas? That was much too far.

Half an hour later, the train pulled into the station. Harry looked out into the crowd, looking for the man from the photo, looking for Moony, but there were too many adults. Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest, knowing he would actually meet Moony any time now. He didn't how he should react. Should he hug the man or what? Knowing Moony would be nervous as well only helped Harry a tiny bit. He looked down at his hands to find them shaking. What if he wasn't there waiting for him? Harry didn't know where he lived and Hedwig was still at Hogwarts for Ron's use. He'll have no way to contact Moony. Where would Harry go if Moony wasn't there?

"Come on, Harry. Come met my parents." Hermione's voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts and he quickly got up from his seat and pulled his trunk down from the rack. Hermione was looking out the window, scanning for her parents. "I see them!" She waved out the window. She turned to Harry and grabbed his arm. "Come on!" She pulled him out of the compartment, ignoring his protest against being pulled. She didn't let go until they were off the train.

As Harry followed Hermione through the crowd towards her parents, he glanced about trying to catch sight of Moony, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Worry nagged at his mind. Maybe he decided not to come. Maybe he didn't know when the train came in. Maybe Moony decided he didn't want Harry over for Christmas.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione called out to her parents.

Harry turned his attention to his friend's parents. Hermione's mother was a slender woman with brown hair and light green eyes. She had long bangs that barely reached her eyes. She smiled warmly at her daughter and quickly embraced her. "Oh, my girl!" She pulled back to stare at her daughter's eyes. "How was school? Doing good in your classes?"

Before Hermione can answer, her father stepped forward and Harry turned his attention to him. Her father had her brown eyes. He was slender as his wife. His hair was short, but Harry can see traces of fizzy curls at the ends and he knew Hermione inherited her bushy hair from him. He hugged his daughter as well as giving her a kiss on her forehead. "How's my bunny?" He said with a grin.

"Dad!" She complained with a light blush. However, she was also smiling back at him. She turned away from them to pull Harry closer by the arm. "Mom, Dad, this is my friend Harry Potter." She announced proudly. "Harry, these are my parents."

Remembering all those harsh lessons of showing respect by his aunt and uncle, Harry stuck out his hand and said as politely as he could, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. and Dr. Granger."

Hermione's father looked impressed. "What a polite young man you are, Harry." He shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

Hermione's mother gave him a delighted smile. "We've heard so much about you, Harry. Thank you so much for saving my daughter's life." She reached over and gave Harry a hug. She ignored his tense body. "And for becoming friends with her. She never had a friend before." She pulled away and Harry saw faint tears in her eyes. Harry turned red under the praise and shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to announce he never had friends since Hogwarts either.

"Mom!" Hermione complained, embarrassed.

Her mother waved her complaint away. "Oh, dear, I was just stating truth and my gratitude."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to make it sound like I was lonely. I had my books and you two."

"Dear, books can't…"

Harry toned out the argument. It seemed to be a private argument. He looked around the station. Many of the families were leaving. However, it was still very crowded and nosy as child greeted family and friends said their goodbyes. Harry was watching a group of black and brown haired family greet a young teen. The teen was hugging his father or uncle before turning to his big grandfather. It was when the grandfather bent down to hug his grandson, that Harry saw him. The light sandy brown hair was streaked with gray. The tall and very skinny, almost sickly form was angled away from Harry. The man's searching blue eyes gazing across the many heads and Harry knew he was looking for a first year Gryffindor boy. He was looking for Harry.

Harry froze. It was Moony. He knew the man was Moony. He remembered him from the pictures in his photo album. His breath got caught in his throat. He shifted nervously, unsure what to do. The grandfather straightened up, the hug with his grandson ending, and he blocked Harry's view again. Harry snapped back into the present and turned to Hermione. She was still arguing with her mother. Her father was now in the argument, trying to play peacekeeper. "Umm…Hermione?" Harry interrupted.

The argument ended as soon as Harry spoke. Hermione turned red. "Sorry, Harry." She said apologetically.

Harry shook off her apology. "It's alright. I saw…Moony. I'm going to go." He turned to her parents. "It was a pleasure meeting you two."

Mr. Granger shook his hand again. "It was nice meeting you too, Harry. We better head off as well. I hope we'll meet again."

Mrs. Granger gave him another hug and Harry couldn't stop his body from tensing up. He was not use to hugs. The first time anyone hugged him was when Hermione did it. He now knew where she got her tenancy to hug; from her mother. "It was lovely meeting you, Harry. You should come over sometime. I'm sure Hermione would love it if you do." She pulled away and Harry gave her a shaky smile.

Hermione then hugged him. "You going to be alright, Harry?" She asked before pulling away. "I mean, you don't truly know him."

Harry nodded. "I'll be fine and I've known him since I was five. Professor Dumbledore knows him. He was the one that allowed me to go." Harry was still confused as to why he had to ask Professor Dumbledore for permission to go to Moony's over break, but Moony told him it would be for the best if he did.

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "Okay, Harry, if you're sure." She still sounded uncertain about it, but didn't say anything more on the subject. "I guess this is bye for now. See you after break."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, see you." He watched as Hermione left with her parents before turning back to where he last seen Moony. The family was gone and Moony hadn't moved from his spot. He was now facing Harry and staring at him. Their eyes connected; emerald green and blue, yellow-ish eyes. Harry felt like he couldn't move. It _was_ Moony there was no doubt about that. His heart was pounding in his chest. Before him stood the one person who cared, the one person that was there when Harry needed him the most. He may not have been there physically, but he was there giving him love and comfort through the letters. He distracted him from the pain of living at the Dursley's. He was the only adult Harry can say he trusted. Even though he wasn't allowed to visit him or gain custody of him, he made sure Harry had a chance to know him. Harry had waited for this moment since he was five years old and he didn't know what to do. When he was younger, he had imagined throwing himself on him saying how much he loved him and how thankful he was. Now, though, that seemed a bit childish and awkward.

Suddenly, Moony started to walk over to him, dodging pass the passing families. He kept his eye on Harry and Harry kept his eye on Moony. It seemed to have taken Moony forever to reach him, but reach him he did. Moony knelt down at Harry's level. His eyes were watery and his mouth was in a warm and happy smile. He reached his hand out like he wanted to touch him, make sure Harry was really there, but pulled his hand back before doing so, like he was afraid of frightening Harry away. "Harry, cub." His voice was hoarse, but soft and calming. There was something familiar about how he called him cub, like a distant memory that Harry couldn't remember. Harry knew that he knew this man before his parent's death. He knew it from the way Moony called him cub. It was different hearing someone call him that then reading it off a piece of parchment.

"M…Moony?" To Harry, his voice sounded small; hopeful and nervous at the same time. Rather or not Moony believed the same thing, Harry didn't know. But as soon as he called the man before him 'Moony' all resistances seemed to have broken down and Harry quickly found himself in his fourth hug that day. Harry couldn't stop his body from tensing up again. This was the first hug from a man and it was quite different from the hugs he received from Hermione and her mother. Moony's hug was more…comfortable and familiar. Harry found himself relaxing in his firm, but gentle hold. As he relaxed, Harry did something he never thought he'd do on first hugs. Harry reached around Moony and placed his hands on his back, returning the hug. When Harry fully accepted the hug from Moony, the hug turned more firm like Moony was no longer afraid of being pushed away and Harry buried his face into the man's shoulders.

After what seemed like an eternity, they both pulled away. Moony kept a hand on Harry's shoulders and gave a teary smile. "You've gotten big since I last saw you, cub."

Harry gave him a side grin and shrugged his shoulders. "I was only a little more than a year old." He pointed out.

Moony chuckled. "That's true." There was moment of peaceful silence before he stood up. "Come on, cub. I have hot coco waiting for us at home."

'At home' Harry noticed the way Moony called his home, their home and he felt a warming sensation in his chest. He may not live there, but you know what they say, 'Home is where the heart is' and Harry had no doubt Moony's home would feel like his soon enough.

Moony took hold of Harry's trunk with one hand and wrap the other arm around Harry's shoulders.

"What's your real name? Moony is your nickname, but I don't know your real name." Harry asked as they stepped over to the rows of fireplaces up against the far wall.

"Remus. Remus John Lupin." Moony answered before throwing the floo powder in the fireplace. "Wolfs Cottage." The fire turned green. "Your father called my parents home Wolfs Cottage." He explained. "Since my last name is means Lupus which is wolf in Latin. This would be your first time using the floo, correct?" Harry nodded. "Alright. We'll step in together then. Hold on tight." Together, with Harry holding onto Moony's arm, they stepped into the fireplace and vanished from sight.


	5. Part 5: Christmas Day

**The last part: Christmas Day...the story is now completed..its the longest part in this story..i dont know if Hermione and Ron got Harry anything for Christmas his first year..but i figured at age of eleven they didn't exchange gifts..since they wouldn't be able to really shop for gifts..they just met each other that year...and they might not have the money to shop for gifts..i know i didn't always get my friends presents for Chirstmas..and at the young age of eleven i know i didn't get them anything..**

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><p>Christmas Break was one of Harry's best days of his life. Moony and him went out together in the woods by Moony's little cabin to pick and take down a tree on Harry's second day there. Later that night, they decorated it together with Moony recalling several Christmas's with Harry's parents. The third day there, Harry and Moony sat down over the photo album and Harry was able to ask the questions he wanted too. Moony was more than willing to answer, unless it was about the black haired, gray eye man that was usually found standing or sitting next to Harry's father, James. Moony and Harry also went to Diagon Alley and Muggle London that day to do some Christmas shopping and just hang out together. Christmas Eve found them outside playing in the snow; snow angles, snowman, and snowball fights. All the while, Moony would tell Harry about a time at school where he did the same thing with Harry's father and their two friends. They went inside when the sun sank over the horizon. They sat on cushions on the ground in front of the fireplace with hot coco just talking, at peace and happy.<p>

On Christmas morning, Harry was rudely woken up around six in the morning by someone shaking him and calling out to him. "Cub, wake up. It's Christmas. Harry, my cub, don't you want to open presents." Instead of opening his eyes, Harry groaned and turned away from the hands that continued to shake him awake. "I guess you don't want your Christmas presents?"

Harry lifted his head. "Presents? I got presents?" He asked. He had never gotten presents on Christmas before, unless you count a smelly sock, a coat hanger and an old boot from the Dursley's. This was a year of firsts. Harry realized. He got two presents for his birthday and now he was getting presents for Christmas. Could this year get any better?

Moony nodded and chuckled. "Of course you did, cub. Now, come and open them. I have quite the day planned for us."

Fully awake now, Harry slid out of bed. Moony walked out of them room, calling out over his shoulders. "Don't get changed yet, cub. What's Christmas without opening presents in your PJ's?"

Excited, Harry quickly followed him out of the room and down the hall to the living room. He paused when he saw the candle lit tree in the darken room. The only light came from the candles on the tree and the fireplace, but that was just enough light to see the small pile of presents waiting to be opened.

"Why don't you sit on the couch while I start breakfast, cub? It won't take long." Moony patted his shoulders before walking towards the kitchen. Harry sat on the couch, still eyeing the gifts under the tree. "I didn't know how you usually do Christmas at your relatives, cub. I hope you don't mind if I planned it the way my parents did it." Moony called out from the kitchen. Harry can hear the clinking of pots and pans and the swish as drawers opened and closed. It was a welcoming sound, homey and normal.

"I don't mind at all." Merlin knew how Harry didn't mind. Christmas at the Dursley's consisted of cooking breakfast and serving cookies to Dudley and Uncle Vernon, while watching enviously as his cousin tore open one gift after another. Then being sent to his cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the day. His uncle's present to him…no chores. "How…how did your parents do it?"

"I would wake up at six in the morning and sneak into the living room for a peak at the gifts before waking my parents up. My dad and I would wait on the couch as my mother started on breakfast. Once she was done, she would join us on the couch and we would talk to each other about Christmas, usually about past Christmas' together. But the talk had to be about Christmas. Then, we would dig into our presents. Once all the presents were done, my mother would finish up breakfast with my father helping while I explore some of my new gifts." Harry turned around on the couch to watch Moony in the kitchen. He seemed to be doing everything without magic and Harry wondered about that. "After we finish cleaning up breakfast, we would head outside. My parents and I would play in the snow for hours before coming back in for hot coco." Moony smiled fondly at the memory and Harry wished he was able to remember Christmas with his parents. "My father would then pull out one of our new muggle board games to play." Moony stopped what he was doing and faced Harry. "You see, cub, my father was a wizard and my mother was a muggle. He became fascinated with muggle games." He turned away to get right back onto getting breakfast ready. "So, every year we would get a new board game to play after we had our hot coco. Once we are done with the game, we would sit on the couch with a roaring fire. Sometimes we just sit in comfortable silence and sometimes we talked about anything that came to mind." Moony came out of the kitchen and sat down next to Harry. Harry twisted back around to face him. "Christmas day was the only day we spent all day together. My father was usually busy with one thing or another on most days."

"Why don't you use magic when getting breakfast ready?" Harry asked, hugging his knees to his chest.

"My mother was a muggle and couldn't use magic. I guess I just carried on the tradition of not using it when preparing a meal." Moony answered. " 'Nothing like doing things with your own two God-giving hands' was what my mother had said when my father asked if he should just use magic."

For the next hour, the two of them talked about anything that came to mind if it had something to do with Christmas. Moony had retold many of his own Christmas memories, including Harry's first Christmas. Harry couldn't help but notice that, like in his letters, he didn't use many names. It was always, 'your father, 'your mother', 'a very good friend of your parents and I', and 'a former friend of mine'. Harry wanted to ask who the 'very good friend of mine' and 'former friend of mine' was, but knew there must have been a reason Moony wasn't telling him and, since it was Christmas, Harry put it off for now.

Finally, Moony declared it time to open the presents. Moony slid off the couch to sit on the floor and Harry followed his example. "Harry, my cub, why don't you dig in first?"

Harry hesitated for only a second before picking up a small rectangular shaped gift. He glanced at the tag. It read: _To: Remus Lupin_…_From: AD_. He held it out for Moony. "It's for you."

Moony took the present and glanced at the tag. "Ah." He said, nodding in recognition. "Headmaster Dumbledore. I should have known his attempt for me to socialize more would not stop with inviting you over for Christmas."

Harry picked up another present. "You personally know Professor Dumbledore?" He asked as he glanced at the tag. It had his name on it and it was from Mrs. Weasley. Harry titled his head to the side in confusion.

Moony nodded as he started to peel off the wrapper. "Yes, that man did a lot for me. More they you can possibly know, more then I can possibly know. And it didn't stop with me leaving Hogwarts." He chuckle in amusement when he saw the book that laid underneath. He lifted it up for Harry to see. "_Why Candy Should Be Considered Healthy_. Professor Dumbledore loves his candy, Harry. If you ever want to get out of trouble, buy him lots of candy, especially muggle candy. Your father and a former friend of ours use to do that all the time."

Harry chuckled lightly. "I'll remember that." He turned back to his gift and slowly tore the wrapper off. It was a hand knitted sweater with a letter H on the front. Harry carefully studied the sweater. He had no idea why Ron's mother would send him a gift, but he felt extremely touched by it. He wished he had got her something. Harry gently put the sweater off to the side and took another present. Once again it was for him from Moony. He opened it and stared at the muggle board game called, '_Sorry'_. He studied the font of the box before flipping it over to look at the back, trying to get the gist of the game. It looked very interesting and he couldn't wait to play it. From what Moony said earlier, Harry knew they would play it later in the day. He set the game aside and picked up another present. It was to Moony, from Hagrid. "Here, this one is for you too."

Moony looked at the tag. "Hagrid, huh. Another good old friend." He smiled fondly and opened the gift. Inside was another book, but it had not title on its front. "A journal." Moony said softly. He chuckled slightly with fondness. He glanced up and saw Harry glancing curiously at the empty journal. "Hagrid was gameskeeper when I was in school. We had many friendly visits and I spoke often of keeping a journal and how my journals fill up rather quickly. Since then, every year for Christmas, he would send a journal."

"That's nice of him." Harry said. He turned to his own present from Hagrid. It turned out to be a hand-carved, wooden flute. He blew into it, playing some nameless tone before setting it aside. He picked up another present. This one had an actually card and not just a tag. He read it out loud. "Your father left this in my procession before he died. Use it well." He glanced at Moony and he could tell by the look on his face that he had no clue what it was either. "There's no name on the card." He said, handing it over to Moony.

Moony study the handwriting. "It'll be alright, cub. I know who sent it and I can understand why the person didn't write down his or hers name. You may open it."

Curious, but trusting there was a good reason, Harry opened the package. A silvery long cloak took Harry by surprise. He stood up and held up the cloak to his face. "It's a cloak." He stated, confused why it would have any sort of importance. He looked up when he heard Moony chuckle fondly. Moony looked conflicted, amused and sad at the same time. He reached over and touched the hem of the cloak. He pulled back and sighed.

"So many times I've used that cloak with your father. He took it from your grandfather in his first year, you know. He said he was just 'borrowing' it and would return it after he was done with Hogwarts…only to find out two or three years later that your grandfather let him take it." He said with a fond smile. "It's a very useful cloak."

Harry looked down at the cloak, trying to find out what was so useful about it. "What does it do?"

"Why don't you put it on and see for yourself?" Moony chuckled at the irony of the sentence that was completely lost to Harry.

Harry gave one last look at the cloak before throwing it on. At first, he didn't realize any differences, but then he looked down and gasped in shook. "My body! It's gone!" He was a tad bit frightened. Where was his body? He quickly took the cloak off of him and looked back down. He sighed in relief when he saw that his body was back. He put the cloak back on and his body him vanished again. He looked up at Moony with a wide eye expression.

Moony laughed at Harry's expression. "It's an Invisibility Cloak, cub. It's been in your father's family for generations. They are extremely rare, especially ones that lasts generations. Most Invisibility Cloak charms wear off, but for some reason the Potter's cloak doesn't. Your father used it to sneak around school and played numerous of pranks without getting caught because of it. But I warn you, cub, we had a belief that Professor Dumbledore could see through the Cloak. So, be careful."

Harry nodded and sat back down. He folded the cloak gently and placed it on top of his Weasley sweater. He picked up another package. It was the last present for him, from Moony. He looked up. "But you already got me a gift." He pointed to the '_Sorry'_ board game.

Moony leaned back, using the front of the couch to rest his back. "Am I not allowed to give you more than one gift, Harry?" He nodded his head towards the present in Harry's hand. "That gift is more…meaningful and personal."

Harry glanced down at the present and gently undid the wrapper. Beneath the wrapping paper was an old pale blue book. The bottom corner of the cover was blackened and it looked like it was rescued from a fire. The picture on the cover looked was worn off and Harry could barely see the picture of an old man holding a book and a quill. The title of the book looked like it use to be gold, but was now faded into a pale yellow. '_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_'. Harry ran a hand down the cover, feeling the engraved letters of the title. Knowing there was some sort of history behind the book Harry looked up at Moony for him to explain.

"Before you read the inside description, cub, why don't you re-read the letter I sent you on May 7th, 1987. Near the end of the letter should explain the book."

Harry didn't get a chance to look through his stack of letters until close to bedtime. The day with Moony had been really fun, with one thing after another. Breakfast was the best breakfast Harry had ever had. It even beat Hogwarts breakfast, since he was usually extremely tired or finishing last minute homework during breakfast at Hogwarts. Moony and Harry then enjoyed a day outside, playing in the snow. Harry was winning during their snow ball fight, until Moony had tackled him into a huge pile of snow. They had also made a snowman, which Moony spelled to throw snowballs at Harry. Harry got him back when they went sledding on a hill a mile into the woods behind Moony's cabin. Harry had pushed him off his sled. They came back in three hours later and drank hot coco in the kitchen, talking and laughing over their day outside. Harry then got out his new game and they played '_Sorry_' for a few more hours. Harry won two games and Moony won three. After the game, they sat on the couch in front of the fire and talked.

By the time Harry went to his room to get ready for bed, it was nine o'clock. The first thing he did after change into his PJ's was dig out his boxes of letters. After almost seven years of writing, Harry had to find other boxes once one box got filled. There were seven boxes marking each year. Three of the boxes were tin boxes, two of them were wooden, and the rest were small cardboard boxes. The 1987 box was one of the wooden boxes. Harry pulled out that box and searched threw it for May seventh. It was easy enough to find. Harry skipped the first few parts of the letter and went straight to the end, looking for something that would explain the book, '_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_'. He found it in the middle of a paragraph.

…_favorite book. I remember a book that you had loved when you were young. Your father had gotten it for you the day you were born. He would read it to you when putting you down for your nap. An adorable scene, actually. He would usually fall asleep with you on the couch in the living room. There were many times when I walked in for a visit to see your father lying on the couch, asleep, with you lying on top of him, asleep as well. The couch wasn't big enough to fit a full grown man. So, his feet would be hanging off the side of the couch. His glasses would still be on his face, an arm wrapped around you on his chest. I remember one time when I had to babysit you and I had to put you down for the night. As I had mentioned before, you hated going to bed. I believe the only reason you take a nap without fuss was because your father would fall asleep with you. It took your mother to sing to you 'Love Me Tender' for you to fall asleep, but I don't have a good singing voice and I didn't know the song well enough. So, I put you in your crib, sat on the rocking chair, and read to you from your favorite book. Eventually, you ended up on my lap and I ended up reading the whole book to you before you fell asleep. The book had many different stories in it and your father usually read two or three before you fall asleep for you nap, but for some reason, that night, you wanted to hear the whole book._

Harry placed the letter down and picked up the book. He stared at it curiously. Was this his favorite book when he was younger? He opened up the cover. The inside of the cover Moony had written something.

_My Little Cub,_

_A few days after your parents died, I dared to venture into their home in Godric's Hollow. I found this book in your nursery. I was surprised to see it still in good condition, for the most part. I took it so that someday it may be returned to its proper owner; you. With this book comes with many attached memories. Memories that you may be too young to remember, but memories that are buried deep within you still. Your parents loved you, Harry, and I love you. Don't you ever forget that._

_Moony_

Harry closed the book and stared at it with new eyes. He caressed the spin in wonderment. This was his book. His father bought this book when Harry was born. His father's hand was often on this book. He read those words to him. This book was there, sitting in his nursery, the day his parents died. It was a weird feeling; holding something that was there that night.

Harry stood up and left his room, taking the book with him. He found Moony sitting on the couch in the living room. He appeared to be reading the _Daily Prophet_. Standing there, Harry suddenly felt very stupid. He turned to leave, but Moony stopped him.

"Come, sit down, cub."

Harry turned back around. Moony was putting the paper down on the cocktail table. Harry walked over and sat on the couch next to him. He held the book on his lap and stared at it.

"Was there something you wanted, cub?" Moony asked softly.

Harry briefly glanced shyly at him before turn his gaze back to the book. "I…I was wondering if you could…could read it to me?" He asked meekly. His face turned red in embarrassment. His request sounded childish and stupid now that he said it. He was able to read, unlike when he was an infant. He didn't need anyone reading to him. He didn't dare lift his head up.

A hand came into Harry's view and grabbed the book from his lap. "Of course I will, my cub." Moony's soft voice said. He opened the book and Harry settled back against the couch, getting comfortable. "The Fountain of Fair Fortune." He started, reading the title of the first story.

Harry listen to Moony's calm and smoothing voice as he read the tale. Just like what happened years ago when Moony had babysat baby Harry, he read the entire book before Harry fell asleep leaning against Moony's chest, at peace and comfortable, raising a little when Moony inhaled to breath. All in all, Christmas that year was the best Christmas either of them had in a very, very long time.


	6. New Story

NEW STORY COMING UP!

You know those little memories Remus talked about in his letters to Harry; Lily singing her lullaby to Harry, James singing "I want you, I need you, I love you" to his wife…well guess what! I'm writing those memories down for you to read! You'll get to read about the first time Lily sang her lullaby to Harry and about the time James played with Harry two o'clock in the morning! This would also be in parts and not really chapter…it would kind of be like the way I did "The Letters". Some scenes are shorter than others so I am combining some parts into one chapter.

Watch out for the new story, "Remus Memories"

And thank you all that reviewed for this story…you all kept me going!

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><p><strong>NEW STORY IS UP!<strong>

**"Remus Memories" is now posted..don't forget to check it out..**


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